


The Lion and the Mouse

by TheVulcanDilemma



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Bondage, Clothed Sex, Control Issues, Dom/sub Undertones, Feels, Fingerfucking, Flagrant abuse of commas and semicolons, Introspection, M/M, Manipulation, POV Third Person Limited, Submission, Subterfuge, Unwitting/Unwilling Confessions, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVulcanDilemma/pseuds/TheVulcanDilemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan adjusts to life in the castle the best way he knows how, or rather, he adjusts life in the castle to best suit his new life.  </p>
<p>Or a porny character study of everyone's favorite angry villain and his new side-kick! With angst!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion and the Mouse

Alan strut though the castle toward his current master’s quarters, boots clicking on the stone floor, setting a rhythm to match his heart beat. Being in the castle, being closed in like this, set his teeth on edge. He was Guy’s boy now , he reminded himself forcefully. That’s what the people in the castle called him. His boy. That’s who he was now.

He’d just returned from a day’s unsavory work, and Guy didn’t like to be kept waiting. He gave the passing guards a haughty nod and the best smirk he could muster. They returned his good cheer in kind. Alan wasn’t an idiot; he knew what they, what all the guards, thought of him. In all honesty, it didn’t bother him. Respect doesn’t feed you. Respect doesn’t keep you alive.

As he approached Guy’s quarters he could hear his lord’s unmistakable baritone resonating off the walls as he made some staccato bitten-off exclamation. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who inspired such a display. There was only one person in the castle Guy would waste his time trying to threaten, cajole, reason with.

Marian came out a moment later, looking as she always did when in the castle; annoyed anxiety mixed with patient planning. Alan had to admit he could see what Robin saw in her. A strange creature with beauty and guile, honor and courage. Not flowing recklessly like Robin’s perhaps, but tempered with the weariness of someone who actually had to live in the world and play by its rules.

If Alan was a different man he could only find one area to fault her endless nobility. She played to readily and to carelessly with Guy’s heart. It wasn’t necessarily that he had a problem with using people like that, but for someone so sanctimonious, it did her no credit. From a more shrewd point of view, he thought she took far to many liberties in his regard for her, never doubting his continued devotion. Perhaps, however, she was the better judge in this, seeing as she was able to rekindle his love even after leaving him at the alter.

Alan heard Guy’s frustrated beckon for him to enter a few moments later. Guy always did this; always called for Alan when a meeting with Marian didn’t go well. Luckily for Alan, he was not a different man, so when he heard his master’s call he knew exactly how to play the upcoming game, and play it to his advantage in every way.

“I do not pay you to lurk outside my door. Leave the money you collected today. All the money, and get out.”

He did as he was told, loosening the purse from his belt and leaving it on the table. Lingering, he cast a nervous glance up at his lord. Guy fixed him with an angry, fatigued look.

“Was I unclear? Leave!”

Alan weighed his next words, deciding that even with Guy’s temper a direct approach was best. In this, subtlety was a poor man‘s game.  
“ I’m not being funny but, Marian’s just leading you on. She’ll never belong to you.”

Guy face immediately contorted with outrage. “What?! What did you just say to me!?” His eyes flashed dangerously as he stalked up to Alan grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him close. “And who exactly does she belong to, if not me?!”

People really didn’t give Guy enough credit. When he cared to be, he could be insightful. For a moment Alan was afraid he’d betrayed a trust even he had no intention of giving up, but quickly checking his expression he countered with, “I only mean that Marian belongs to the people. Her heart’s too pure, my lord.” Fixing his eyes on Guy’s he said more quietly, “She’ll never be able to understand you,” and then with expression of such sincerity he surprised even himself, he added, “she can never serve you like I can.”

Guy tossed him away with a nasty sneer.

“And what could a sell -sword like you offer me. A man whose loyalty can be bought as easily as one buys a whore.”

Alan wasn’t surprised by the direction the conversation had turned. He’d had this conversation many times and with a nagging feeling tugging distantly at his heart, he figured this time wouldn’t be the last either. He was used to this. Sometimes it was necessary to bring himself low in order to elevate the type of man with whom he usually kept company. With Robin he had been able to raise himself instead; adorn the archer’s chivalry and integrity rather than debase himself for the benefit of lending an unworthy impression of greatness. Yet, he found his following rebuttal slipped effortlessly from with mouth with unnerving ease.

“Do you know why people waste their money on whores? Because for a very reasonable fee, a whore will give you anything. Be anything. That’s what I can offer you. Gallant feelings like love and fidelity are nice, but feelings can change.” Alan slowly approached a silently fuming Guy. The tall man in his black leather and hateful demeanor was by all means intimidating, but greater men than Guy have their vulnerabilities.

“Feelings can’t keep your bed warm.”

Dropping to his knees, but still not daring to touch, he looked up with an all too knowing “You can’t drag a whore down into the mud. We can only look up to someone like you . . .worship someone like you. Let me honor you the way you deserve.”

Guy made a disgusted sound and turned away, but not quickly enough to hide the shocked, exposed expression that slipped onto his face before he could stop himself. Control was always one of the thorns in Guy’s side. Sought but never possessed. Realizing this, Alan saw that this situation, one that clearly threw Guy off-kilter was not his best course of action. No, a proud man like Guy at least needed to have impression he was the one leading things.  
Lowering his head, Alan whispered a soft, submissive “I would be honored, my lord.” He let his hands hover by the laces of Guy’s trousers. “I await only your command.”

Guy suddenly grabbed him by the collar and jerked him up to meet his face. At first, Alan thought Guy might punch him. Not an all together terrible outcome. The master of arms for someone like the sheriff did many terrible things, but you’d have to be a fool not to see how it weighed on the unlikely conscious of Sir Guy of Gisborne. Alan was no fool. He knew if Guy did beat him for this, their future interactions would be softened by the guilt of having literally battered a man kneeling in submission. He could not, however, stop himself from feeling slightly disappointed. Guy, though, he just looked at him for a long minute, staring into those huge blue eyes, so like those of his unrequited love’s, before crushing their mouths together in a harsh, stunted kiss. Pulse suddenly pounding from something other than the shock of being manhandled, Alan leaned in to kiss Guy again, but the taller man stepped back, looking uncertain.

“Get on the bed. And take your clothes off.” Alan smiled and sauntered over to the bed, opening his mouth, ready to make some lewd comment. “And do not speak. Just- don’t.”

Alan did as he was told, undressing without ceremony and stretching shamelessly in a languid pose on the bed. Hoping his own nudity would necessarily lead to Guy‘s, he kept his eyes fixed on the larger man. Guy, though, just approached the bed slowly.

“Stroke yourself.”

Alan played at being shy, smiling softly and averting his gaze, he slid his hand down his body but paused at his hip.

“Just do it,” Guy barked, “don’t act like you don’t know how its done.” He added with a less than pleasant smirk.

Alan could hardly find it in him to fault Guy for his rude implication, he’d been growing hard ever since that unforgivably short kiss. He’d be lying if he said the man in all black hadn’t been slipping, with frustrating frequency, into his fantasies ever since that first time he’d seen him shed that abominable armor. The sheer magnitude of the man before him was enough to have him full mast, even without the promise of his touch. Guy hadn‘t made any move to suggest he intended to join in the fun, just stood over him imperiously, eyes never leaving Alan’s busy hands.

Alan was panting with desire before Guy made any other move than to rub himself absently over his trousers. He pulled out a long strip of silk from a drawer in the bedside table. He slid it ostentatiously through his hands, making a display of showing it to Alan. Finally, he climbed onto the bed, straddling Alan’s thighs. The pick-pocket’s nimble hands immediately reached up to start on the laces of his master’s clothing, but Guy grabbed his wrists and pinned them down beside his head.

“I can do anything to you. Isn’t that what you said?” Guy had undoubtedly intended this to be a taunt, but it came out as more of a breathless disbelief. Maybe this was why it didn’t fill Alan with the reluctance he thought he should feel in allowing a man who had formerly had him tied up and tortured to do so now. Instead, all it did was send a shiver of pleasure running down his spine.

“Yes, my lord. Anything.”

“I’m going to tie you up, and then I’m going to fuck you until you can‘t stand it anymore. You’re at my mercy. Your pleasure rests in my hands. Don’t forget that.”

“Yes, please. Please.” Alan practically whimpered the last, already desperately missing his hand on his cock. With that, Guy bound his hands to the post of headboard with all the expertise of one who regularly ties people up, though Alan couldn’t help stupidly, selfishly hoping for a brief instant that it was not from practice in similar situations as his.

With his hands tied Alan could only lay and wait for whatever his master deigned to give him, which apparently wasn’t quite as much he currently wished. Guy combed his hands softly, almost reverently through Alan’s hair, moving with equal hesitancy down the sides of his neck, over his chest, finally coming to rest with his thumbs in the hollows of Alan’s hips.

“Close your eyes. Keep them closed.” Alan felt a brief moment of nerves, but did as commanded, his world becoming the sound of his own short breaths and Guy’s calloused hands and frighteningly gentle touches. Continuing his glacial exploration of the restrained man’s body he seemed determined to become intimately acquainted with every part of Alan’s body, lavishing soft skin with tongue and touch until Alan’s body began to shiver.

“Are you frightened.” Guy inquired softly, tone surprisingly angry. “You ask me for this.”

“No! No, my lord. It’s just- Guy, my- uh, I’m so hard, please. I need you to touch me.”

The rough hands that hand been resting on his chest, thumbs rubbing small circles over his nipples, left his body abruptly. Alan let out a soft dismayed mewl.

“Greedy little thing aren’t you?”

The affronted sound Alan would have made was swallowed as he felt a warm mouth engulf the leaking head of his cock. It was apparent from his technique that Guy wasn’t in the practice of frequently sucking cock, but after being hard so long without touch such trifling concerns could carry very little weight with a desperate man. The mouth pulled off with an indecent pop, only to return a moment later to lick a hot stripe from his balls all the way to the tip, before swallowing him back down and bobbing in a cautious, meditated rhythm that had Alan groaning and mumbling broken-off praises.  
That damnable mouth left him again and he heard something shuffling around beside him. He tried to lean up and was about to open his eyes, when one of Guy’s warm hands soothed him back down and the other grazed over his hole with slicked fingers, moving in small, undemanding circles.

 “Ask me for it.”

Yes. Yes, Alan could definitely beg if it meant he could get a more little stimulation.

“Please! Please Guy, do it. Do it! I want you in me!”

“Good boy.” When Guy’s long fingers slide into Alan’s helpless body and set a determined rhythm, moving deep inside him, curling to hit his sweet spot every few thrusts, the praise seemed easily won. Very easily won.

Now, Alan had never been one to pollute certain pleasures with the frivolous reprimands of character that may accompany instances like this, nor was he one to ruin a perfectly good time pretending he didn’t want what was happening. This, though, this was turning out ten times better than he’d expected. At most he’d imagined a quick blowjob with no reciprocity, or if he was lucky an equally rushed, rough shag against the wall. It seemed fate had decided to favor him this time though, as Guy slowly, methodically fingered him open. The touch was almost to gentle for him to stand, and had him whimpering for more in far less time than he deemed completely respectable.

“You like this, do you? My fingers stirring you up, getting you ready for my cock.”

Alan let out a long, wrecked moan before he could answer. “Yes, yes my lor- Guy. Please more. I want more.”

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’ve wanted this from me.”

“Wh- Wha-. .” Alan stuttered helplessly, he couldn’t be expected to make something up right now, not with the way Guy’s fingers had started pounding into him in just the right way, but apparently the truth spills more easily from his mouth than he thought.

“Ah-Always. Always wanted you to fuck me. Have me on my back, begging.” Apparently once his treacherous mouth starts going, it can’t be stopped. “Wanted your cock in me, branding me, making me- making me-” He bites his tongue to stop himself. This sex haze isn’t going to make him say something so ludicrous. It won’t. Guy, unfortunately, has different plans, pulling his fingers out of Alan’s slick, open hole and finally, finally lining himself up. Seems Alan’s little confession made the other man that much more determined to see him come apart.

“Make you what? Tell me.” He thrust his cock into the man’s willing body in one smooth motion, setting a quick, rough pace of short jabs pounding directly into the smaller man’s prostate. It was too much, too sudden after the unhurried pace he’d been using to fingering him. It was driving him crazy, his fists tightened around the silk keeping him tied down until his knuckles became white with the strain.

“Say it!” The dark man growled, relentlessly fucking into him. He just couldn’t help himself anymore,

“Making me yours!”

Guy grabs Alan’s neglected cock with a low rumbling moan and jerks him quickly until Alan’s whole body stiffens and shivers and comes, painting his stomach and chest in thick white ribbons. Vaguely, he finds it in himself to feel some slight embarrassment about lasting so short a time, but his head’s still swimming pleasantly and all he can just muster are small quiet moans as Guy continues to use body, having now changed his pace to longer, deeper thrusts that has Alan’s pliant body rocking with their force.

Quickly becoming too sensitive, Alan had just begun to squirm away when Guy’s pace began to stutter, and he pulled him back closer, bending over him to bite Alan’s neck as he came. Collapsing on top of him, Guy allowed himself a few deep breaths before shifting onto his side and reaching up to untie Alan’s hands, never meeting his eyes. Alan just let his hands fall to his sides, still trying to catch his breath. Guy only bothered to sit up and remove the heavy leather from his upper body before dropping back down onto the bed facing away from Alan. He hadn’t barked the order for Alan “to get the hell out now,” as he’d expected. In fact, he didn’t say a word, just pulled the mussed up blanket loosely about his hips.

Alan sat up, vacantly stretching his arms and massaging his wrists. For awhile he just sat there, staring ahead, hands still caressing the place he’d been bound. He knew it probably wouldn’t be wise for him to be found still here in the morning, but as he got up to leave he couldn’t stop himself from turning back and letting the backs of his fingers run gently over the soft, dark fabric of Guy’s undershirt, stopping just short of touching the exposed skin of his wrist.

 

“I can’t be the trophy you think you deserve, but what did a pretty bauble ever do for its keeper.”

 

 

“. . .You are what I deserve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first fanfiction I've written. (0.0) Long time listener, first time caller! So feedback's much appreciated. Loved it? Hated it? Let me know! :D And also apologies if the format is awkward


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